A game of Love
by DariaLovesRizzles
Summary: Highschool AU. Jon meets Sam and feels an undeniable need to protect him. Why? Is it just a powerful friendship? Is it more? Story in second person. Jon POV. If you like it, I'll develop. If not, I'll just leave it as a one shot.


Author's Note : A little something I couldn't get out of my head. This is mostly for a dear friend of mine, who is obsessed with Jon and Sam. If you like the idea, let me know and it will be more than a one shot.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, etc.

* * *

You're Jon Snow. Proud, honest. Defiant and imposing. Respected by the bullied. Hated by the bullies.

Your highschool's black sheep and superstar.

When smaller kids go into trouble you save them from your fellow senior colleagues whose most interesting activity is making other students' lives a living nightmare.

You like to spend time by yourself, although any other student from your high school would kill to have 5 minutes of your time. Some to admire you, others to have their revenge for you beating them in every aspect of their lives.

All your teachers loves you, except your physical education teacher, Alliser Thorne, who would do anything to ruin your grades, but there's not much that he can do about that either. You're senior year, so at almost every lesson you have fencing at PE.

And only when you have a sword in your hand, do you really shine, so all your teacher can do is fume and call you names.

When you walk in the hallway, people stand aside. You keep your head high, not giving them the honour of looking them in the eye.

Girls want to be with you, boys want to be you.

You're Jon Snow, and you're not afraid of anything.

…

It's the middle of your first semester of your last year in Westeros Public High School, when your eye is drawn by some blonde curls. You don't necessarily inspect the people you pass by every day, but you can't help that you are such a good observer.

As you get closer by the shy figure that tries to hide in the shadows of a corner, you notice, to your surprise, that those amazing dark blonde curls belong to a plump boy, not very tall. His posture doesn't help his height either – his shoulders are slumped and he keeps his chin tilted forward, almost touching the base of his neck. He reminds you of a scared rabbit that ended up in a forest full of foxes and wolves. The moment you lay your eyes on him you know for sure that haven't seen him before and 2. He will most certainly be a victim of Joffrey's aggressions.

Joffrey Baratheon and his gang of spoiled little brats love to terrorize new students, or helpless, vulnerable, younger kids. You know for a fact this boy will be no exception. You don't look at him directly as you surpass him, but you make a mental note to keep an eye on him.

Later that week you find out his name is Samwell Tarly, and that he is a south boy. Gossip spreads like wildfire in your high school, so all you have to do is pay attention. You find out he is in your year, a senior, but all his life he has been home-schooled. He has been sent up here in the north of the country at Westeros by his father to finish his studies, because the boy has refused to join the army. He lives with an old relative, and after he graduates he will have to stand on his own two feet, his father never wanting to have anything to do with him anymore. You've also heard someone say he is a bookworm, and that he has won several National Competitions at History, Geography, Astronomy and Literature.

You are quite impressed, but you'd never let it show.

You start seeing him in your classes. He always sits in the front desk and looks enthralled by what the teachers says, be it a bad joke. He is always the last one to leave, almost at every class having some competent questions for your baffled teachers. You soon realize he already knows the answers, but he uses the time to put some distance between himself and his new bullies.

You can't explain the sadness you feel when you realize he doesn't really need your protection.

…

Monday comes around again, and you have your first PE lesson together with Samwell. You still haven't introduced yourself, even though you have been classmates for the past 3 days. You don't know why you feel a little anxious when you think about going and talking to him. And that makes you angry: Jon Snow doesn't do 'anxious'.

You decide you'll talk to him sometime today.

…

You are currently warming up for the lesson when you spot him entering the gym. He looks around frantically, scanning the zone after his bullies. When he doesn't see Joffrey or his friends anywhere, you see him relax a little, but still keeping his guard up.

Just as he arrives at the bleachers, Alliser Thorne storms into the gym, shouting as he approaches you.

"The fun is over, move your lazy asses off of the bench and start running! Faster, what are you, 80-year-olds?"

After 5 laps circling the basketball court, Thorne blows his whistle commanding you to stop. You look over at Samwell, who is at the end of the line. He is resting his arms of his knees, trying to catch his breath. He obviously has no physical condition.

"Good, now that the warming up is over, start counting, 1 and 2." He barks.

You change position with a classmate, so you are in different teams.

"Baratheon, move your ass here!"

You turn around and see Joffrey with a smug grin coming over from the benches. You feel your fists clench.

"Now, team capitans, Snow, and…" He takes a moment, scrutinizing your faces, "…ah, Tarly."

You turn around and meet Samwell's petrified gaze. He must have heard how well you handle a sword. You decide to volunteer to fight against him, deciding to spare him Joffrey's cruelty, already knowing the outcome of a match between the two of them.

"Sir, I would like to take Samwell on a round." All eyes turn to you. You look straight at your teacher, holding your ground. "As we are team captains, it would only be fair."

"Oh no, Snow, I'm not letting you show off in front of our new friend." The way he stresses the word friend makes you want to punch him in the face.

"Sir, I must insist – "

"Shut up, Snow, or I'm sending you to the principal's office."

You harden your jaw but take a step back, knowing this fight is already lost. Thorne resents you too much to let you protect the poor boy.

"Baratheon!"

"Yes, sir?" Joffrey has a sly smile on his face, feigning respect.

"Why don't you show Mr. Tarly here how we do facing at Westeros?"

"It will be my absolute pleasure to have Samwell as my opponent."

"Uhh, Mr. Thorne….I-"

"Speak up, Tarly! And stop babbling like a crying baby."

"Sir, I just wanted to tell you th-…"

"Do you not want Joffrey here as your opponent?"

Samwell's face loses all of its color, but he stays quiet, knowing he'd regret it later if he spoke up.

"Good. Now, go equip yourselves."

You follow the rest of your classmates to the bleachers, and hope Joffrey will take pity and leave Samwell in one piece.

You are only 5 minutes into the match and you already know Samwell will have bruises all over tomorrow. The swords are pointed, but it's plain to see this is the first time he has ever held one. Joffrey toys with him until Samwell doesn't even try to react anymore, he just takes blow, after blow, after blow. After another few hits from Joffrey, you decide the fight is over and he is just humiliating the poor boy now.

"Sir, I believe we have a winner." You speak loudly with clear words, making sure everyone hears, including your wicked teacher.

"A training match keeps 15 minutes, Snow, you know that. Don't worry, you'll get your turn."

"Sir!" You are now shouting, unable to stifle your anger. You get up and head towards Joffrey and Samwell, picking up a pointed sword along the way.

"Snow, sit your ass back down or I'm giving you detention!"

"I don't give a crap about your detention." You mumble to yourself, making sure no one has heard you.

You are mere feet away from Samwell. You see with the corner of your eye Joffrey lunging forward, aiming for Samwell's stomach, even though it's against the rules. You take to two steps and jump, parrying Joffrey with your sword, the strength behind your blow making his sword stop just millimeters away from Samwell's body. You glance at the blond boy and watch his face wince, eyes closed, anticipating the hit. When it doesn't come, he curiously opens his eyes and your gazes lock.

You don't know what you feel in the pit of your stomach, but you most certainly know you could drown in his deep blue eyes.

Seeing his face light up when realization dawns on him is all you need keep going.

Joffrey quickly regroups, and launches at you, his previous target long-forgotten. You thrust forward, and aim at his left shoulder, knowing it's his weak spot that he stupidly always leaves uncovered. However, he anticipates this, and easily blocks your attack. You spin around, launching furiously at his right lower leg. This catches him off-guard, making him stumble. You lean back on your own feet, before giving up a final blow to his chest with the pat of the sword, making him fall to the ground.

You know what you did is against the rules and will most certainly earn you detention.

You also know you couldn't care less. You'd do it ten times over if it meant Samwell wouldn't need to suffer anymore because of Joffrey.

You take one last glance at the delicious scene in front of you, before turning to a raging crowd and a professor who has flames coming out his ears.

…

Your little stunt has earned you detention at the library for the rest of the day, and a week of probation. On the other side, you can't decide if it's the bright side or not, you are all the school talks about. Again.

You spend the rest of your day cleaning books and arranging them in alphabetical order, but your mind keeps racing back to Samwell. You can't help but wonder if he's holding on, or if Joffrey's gang took care of him.

You make a promise to yourself to dig into the problem when you escape from your detention.

The following day you don't see Samwell anywhere, which is odd, considering the day is full of his favourite classes, and you don't have PE. However, you don't give it much thought, all day long trying to avoid prying students hungry for gossip, who are trying to find out details about your little incident at the gym. Joffrey appears, but he keeps his distance. You notice with satisfaction that he limps a little.

…

The day goes by and you still haven't set your eyes on Tarly. Your nerves take the better of you and you decide to procrastinate – you'll ask tomorrow about him if he still doesn't show up.

...

You're heading home, when you notice a glimpse of the now familiar dark blonde curls. As you look more closely you see he is standing on a bench somewhat covered from curious eyes by some trees, propping his face in his hands. You approach him, but when he hears you he jumps, his face looking like he has seen a ghost.

"Oh, sorry, I thought you were someone else."

You see that he keeps his head down, but it only clicks inside your head when you glance down at his bloody hands.

"Who…who did this to your face?" Your voice is harsher than you intended.

"I never took you as someone to ask rhetorical questions." Samwell tries to joke, but his face cringes in pain when he moves his facial muscles.

"Don't talk, it will only make the pain worse." Your voice is gentle. You walk up to him and take his face in between your hands, inspecting the damage.

Samwell has a deep cut under his left eye, a bid purple bruise on his right cheek, and his bottom lip is badly split, blood slowly finding its way down his chin.

You slowly trace his lip with your thumb, before raising your eyes to meet his gaze.

Your knees go weak underneath you.

His big baby blue eyes are filled with vulnerability, but also awe. You can easily read the fascination and surprise that lies in there. You take a step back, trying to regain control over your now slightly trembling body.

"Come with me." You want it to be a question, but it comes out as a command.

He doesn't refuse, and limps slowly behind you. You look down and see he can't put his weight on his right leg. You take his right arm and put it around your shoulders, snaking your left arm around his waist for extra support.

"It's okay, my place is only 5 minutes away from school. We don't have to walk long."

"Is now an appropriate time to hope you're not a serial killer?"

You laugh out loud, not able to contain yourself. When you see him wince in pain, you try to stop shaking and apologize.

"Sorry, I just…" You start shaking your head and a small smile plays at the corner of your lips.

"What?" He grins at you.

Oh god.

"Nothing…You're just…"

"I'm just what?"

Amazing.

"Nothing…nevermind."

Fortunately, he drops the subject.

Not long after, you arrive at your apartment. You lead him into the living room, and help him sit down on the couch.

"Do you have the apartment all for yourself?"

You can't help but notice how nice his voice sounds…like silk and chocolate and summer sun and it gives you goose bumps.

"Yeah. My father pays for everything, but I live alone."

"Where does he live?"

You avoid his question, handing him a pack of ice from the fridge to put on his cheek.

"Thanks."

You take out a chair and side down across from him, your eyes on the same level due to the height difference. He looks at you with a wary expression, but you give him a reassuring smile.

"That thing will need some stitches."

"I can't hurt more than it already does." He tries to sound tough, but you can see right through it.

"I'll go grab what I need to sew you up. Do you want a drink to numb the pain?"

"No thanks."

"Okay, I'll be right back."

You return with your first aid kit and sit back down on the chair.

You put two fingers under his chin, slightly raising it. You want to focus on the cut under his eye but all you can think about how nice his skin would feel under your hands.

You shake your head, chasing away the unwanted thoughts.

"What?" He sounds amused.

"Nothin'." You glance away for a second before pointedly looking back at him.

"This is gonna hurt. You sure you don't want something for the pain?"

"Nah, I'm good."

"Alright then."

You start working on his once perfect face, trying to keep your hands from trembling.

…

Just as you finish your work, he rises.

"Well, I'd better get going."

"Yes, of course. I'll see you tomorrow."

You walk him to your door, trying to keep your disappointment from reaching your face.

"Put some more ice on that when you get home. You sure you can walk by yourself on that leg?"

"Yeah, don't worry 'bout me. Thanks for the help today,and…y'know…for saving me yesterday at PE.

Your stomach flutters.

"Yeah, sure no problem, Samwell."

"Huh…" He shakes his head, a little laugh in his soft voice.

"What?"

"Nothing…Good night, Jon." He spins, before slightly turning back. "Oh…and you can call me Sam."

You hope he hasn't seen you blush.

…

The next day you barely contain your enthusiasm at the prospect of meeting Sam again. As you reach the school yard, you see a big crowd gathering, right in the middle of the lot.

As you approach the group of students, they stand aside, allowing you to move right in the center of it.

What you see makes you stop dead in your tracks for a second before jumping right in.

There lies Sam, on the floor in a fetal position, whimpering and wincing in pain.

A few feet away are standing Joffrey and his crew, smiling proudly like they have just won a world war, not beaten up a defenseless kid.

Your blood has been replaced by anger. You feel it coursing through you, igniting flames on its way. You step forward, placing yourself between Sam and the gang.

"Why don't you pick up on someone your size, Joffrey, or are you afraid to lose, _again?"_

"Move away, Snow, unless you want to join your friend down there."

"Watch it Baratheon. This time you won't escape with only a limping foot like last time. And you'll do a lot more than scream in fear like a 5 year old girl that is afraid of the ghosts from Scooby Doo."

Your reply wins cheers and laughter from the crowd.

You feel a satisfied sigh escape your lips as you see Joffrey redden up head to toe.

His 'slaves' back down a bit, taking a step backwards. Joffrey spins and gulps at them.

"I want him beaten up so bloodily he won't be able to move that big fat mouth of his!"

No one moves.

"Sandor! Beat him! Now!"

Sandor Clegane, his 'favorite pet' just stares at him and walks away. He is followed by the rest of Joffrey's 'loyal friends'.

He spins back to face you, but his annoying face is met by your powerful fist.

You make sure to break his nose.

…

You get suspended for 3 days, but seeing the grateful look on Sam's face make every second of it worth it.

At the end of your first day at home, Sam comes by to visit you after school. He tells you what has happened while you were away, and gives you his perfect notes from today's classes.

You can't help but marvel at how beautifully he writes.

His letters and tall and lean, gracefully tied together.

You'd be happy to spend the rest of your life staring at his writing.

"Look, Jon, I never got to properly thank you for what you did for me this past couple of days"

"Sure, you're welcome."

It was my absolute pleasure.

"I really appreciate it, but I don't want to cause you trouble."

"You haven't cause me any trouble, Sam. Don't worry about it."

"No, Jon, I have. You're a good student, and I don't want to get you expelled."

You lean in a little in your chair, your faces now inches apart. You search his eyes with yours as you speak. You don't miss the little spark that ignites in the depths of his orbits, or the way he is slowly closing what is left of the space between your bodies.

"Why do you care so much about what I do, Sam? It's my business."

"Because, I…I care about you…" His voice is raspy, merely above a whisper.

That's all it takes for you to press your lips to his, in a breath-taking kiss.

* * *

So what do you think? Let me hear your thoughts in the reviews!


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